But I stayed silent.
I stretched across the carpet, the fibers causing burns against her skin as I dragged her back to me in the midst of her escape. I’d lost my patience when I lost my grip on her, but unfortunately for her, I hadn’t been able to retrieve them both.
I pulled her in closer in my irascibility, leaning over her back. I trailed my fingers over her satin crotch. “For every bruise you give me, I’ll give you two. Every cut, I’ll cut deeper. I’ll hurt you more than you could ever imagine. He says I shouldn’t, that my fun will be over, but I’ll kill you if I have to. If I can’t have you, no one ever will.”
My tongue peeped out to taste her skin as I breathed out the words, “And just so you know, my father wouldn’t stop it, Jolie; he wouldn’t help you. My parents would encourage me. They bought you for this. For me.”
“You’re deluded!” she spat, leering back to see me, saliva hitting me in the face. She didn’t want to believe the facts.
“Well, there’s something fucking wrong with me. . . butdelusional, that’s debatable.”
“I can help you,” a desperate plea, another I’d ignore. “Woodrow feels—”
“Iknowwhat Woodrow feels, Jolie,” I cut her off. “I read his diary, too. He’s gonna be so fucking mad at me, but he’ll get over it. . . he always does whenever I do something he disapproves of. He needs me, so he has no fucking choice.”
I looked over to my father, who had gone silent, or rather, that annoying device glued to his palm had. However, I struggled to see anything beyond my nose as I buried it in the scent of Jolie’s shampoo. Sweet strawberries enchanted me.
But I snapped myself out of it.
With one hand wrapping her to me, the other clutched at the side of her shorts, yanking them down her legs.
My hand was tight to her chest, feeling her heart pounding beneath my touch. Her lips parted to let out another beg, but no sounds echoed in the stillness of the room. Her fight was gone, her body frozen stiff to mine.
I wrestled with her shorts, eager to get them over the curve of her silky thighs.
I moved back between her legs, my fingers playing with the curls I found there.
“Ah, these are cute.” I laughed. “I expected you to be shaved.”
“Please. . . please, don’t do this. You’re wrong, your parents wouldn’t approve. . . and Woodrow, he’d hate this!”
I felt her heart still as my other hand fell lower and gripped at her flesh.
Her skin felt different here. . . between her legs. Warm and wet. I guess her body was trying to let out the sadness that didn’t make it to her eyes.
“You’re gonna moan for me.”
I forced two fingers inside her, no warning, no waiting, straight in. She clenched around me, wet walls desperately trying to crush my bones.
But it didn’t hurt me.
It spurred me on.
And so did the little whimper that fell from her trembling lips.
“Ah-ah, not like that. Moan for me. Like you’re enjoying what I’m doing.” My tone turned harder, growing more ominous, my accent thicker, like the cock between my legs, begging to replace my fingers.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” Her head shook, that hair I liked so much, hitting against my skin.
“Moan, like you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I won’t. . .” her words were silent, but I felt them. “Not with you. Not like this.”
“Pretend I’m him, if it soothes you. . . and fucking moan.”
Her head shook again, violently, like her wracking sobs. Bubbles blew from her wet nose. Tears rose to her eyes, staining them the same shade of pink as this ugly fucking room. She wasn’t a pretty doll now; she was a fucking mess.
But I still fucking wanted her more than I’d ever fucking wanted anything.
